Better
by FionaTailynn
Summary: Prequel to Star Trek: Into Darkness: Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective, always proud to take the easy way out of situations, is asked for a genetic probe by the mysterious Human Genetics Mutation Academy to try and build the perfect human being. His name is Khan, and he is a flawless replica of Sherlock. Only better. But Khan grows out of control and only Sherlock can stop him.
1. Good

**_A/N: Hello! This story does not work out with Star Trek canon but I did my best to make it as similar to the canon as possible. I've only seen the JJ Abrams Star Trek movies but I did do my research ;) Remember: reviews are ALWAYS appreciated, even when they aren't positive! _****_The next chapter will be posted soon, and I hope you enjoy it!_** :)

_'Cause we lost it all_  
_Nothing lasts forever_  
_I'm sorry_  
_I can't be perfect_  
_Now it's just too late_  
_And we can't go back_  
_I'm sorry_  
_I can't be perfect_

**_ -Simple Plan_**

* * *

To whomever opened this cryo-box,

First big mistake. You should have never opened this box; you should have let Khan drift through space, God why did you even think he was there in the first place?  
Anyways, I'm not going to blame you for having done this. I was no better. In fact I am writing this now, though I have no reason to believe it'll be seen by someone who can read English, let alone even be found.

* * *

The idea was inviting, of course. But why me? Stupid question, I knew exactly why me. Because I am _the _Sherlock Holmes. I don't mean to brag (or yes, I do), but I _am _probably one of the most brilliant minds of the present time. It isn't surprising that they'd pick me for their experimental human-mutants. But there had to be a catch to this. There was always a catch. Certainly when you have to give a DNA sample of yourself to some secret governmental organization. And even more certainly when this organization is so insane it thinks it could create super-humans. Then again, it was worth a shot. Then again, what did I care?  
I didn't want recognition (we all know where that leads...) I just wanted a case. All I wanted was a stupid case and instead they sent some well-dressed men with sunglasses here, boring me with their many Health And Safety rules and rambling about The People Of Tomorrow as if it actually mattered to me whether the world blew up once I was gone. It's bound to happen anyway, Superhumans or not. Well in a way I did care, but admitting this just made me try to convince myself of the opposite. I pursed my lips as the two men standing opposite me, behind the coffee table of 221B, awaited my answer with seemingly growing impatience. It irritated me. As if no "normal" person would take a while to decide whether they wanted desperate scientists to play around with their gene codes. Idiots.  
I was about to say no, when I remembered the pay for it all: £1500. A lot of money for one small sample. Although I guess anyone mentally-impaired enough to aspire human perfection would have a lot of money to waste. Money is one of those things that go into the grey-zone of my caring. It's not that I especially like it but I certainly never mind it. John would be happy about it. I was pretty sure John would tell me not to do this, were he here, but secretly regret having turned down so much money. So I accepted, of course.

After all what was the worst that could happen?

Surprisingly, the entire process only took a couple seconds. I thought they would ask for an appointment or something of the sort, but as soon as I signed the forty-page contract they pulled out a syringe, took a probe of my blood and pulled one of my hairs out. Left alone in my flat, I sat on the armchair rethinking what I'd just done. Would The People Of Tomorrow really be better? Better at everything? Part of it being my work? I have to admit, the thought did give me a sort of pride at the time. I liked the idea that the world would be a better place because of me, even after my death. You can be as cold and emotionless as I, and still like doing good if it doesn't involve getting emotionally attached. That's why I love my job.

John got home an hour or so later while I was playing "The Four Seasons" by Vivaldi on my violin. I didn't tell him what had happened. I don't know why. I guess it's just because he didn't specifically ask "Hey, Sherlock, did, by any chance, some odd governmental organization swing by the flat and take a DNA probe of you?" He didn't interrupt my playing because he knew I disliked that. I've always appreciated that about John. However judgmental I get about him and his stupid, ignorant ways (see what I mean?), he only rarely refrained to do the same. I smiled as the end of the winter neared and I finished the forty-minute-long piece. He continued not to talk to me. I guess it's because usually I play the violin when I'm thinking. Honestly, I wished for him to talk to me then. Sometimes I forget how sad and lonely my life can get. These are the thoughts I have always hated myself for having. I wondered if the potential Superhumans, who would grow from my genetic code, would hate themselves, too, when they got sentimental. Then I wondered whether that was a good or bad thing. Also the entire situation started to make me feel slightly uncomfortable. Suddenly the idea of someone else sharing my intelligence with me gave me an odd feeling. The one thing that made me special was my mind. And if these scientists _did _succeed, they would just makes as many photocopies of me as they wanted. Although, come to think of it, would that also in a way make me immortal? No, it wouldn't. It couldn't. They would all just be poor copies of me. Less than that. The HGMA was collecting gene samples from hundreds, maybe thousands of "superior" beings. But in a way, maybe I could live forever. In the form of many 0s and 1s on a computer's hard drive. In the end I felt a little relieved that, even though it would inevitably be washed away by the always approaching tides of oblivion, I had left some kind of mark on this planet that had nothing to do with police work and was definitely not negative. It was a nice feeling.

I put down my violin and walked into the kitchen to join and converse with John, still leaving out the significant detail about what had happened that morning. It didn't bother either of us so what was the problem with it?


	2. Better

Life continued surprisingly normally after that day. No one of the absolutely-secret-organization-so-secret-we're-wat ching-your-every-step-so-we'll-know-if-you-tell-so mebody organization contacted me again, thanking me for the 10ml of blood and those few hairs or telling me that the experiment was a success/failure. It annoyed me in a way it shouldn't. Of course they'd take a while to get any results from it, but I guess I just wanted to know what was going on with what was rightfully mine. Well, it wasn't mine, part of the contract was a disclaimer so that I couldn't make any profit from whatever sum of money they made with my DNA. Still I wanted to find out something about it, so I weighed out my options and called the number I'd been given for if I had any questions. It rang twice before someone picked up:

"Human Genetics Mutation Academy, here today to make the people of tomorrow better. May I help you?" The woman on the other end was clearly reading off a script she had learned by heart.

"Yes, my name is Sherlock Holmes, and I was wondering if it was possible to have a peek at how exactly my DNA has been used up to now?"

"Could you please hold?" I opened my mouth but before I could give her an answer, a boring New Orleans tune played on an E flat Alto Saxophone. I pursed my lips as I listened to the melody. My eyes flashed around the living room of my flat, waiting for something to happen. A good five minutes passed, in which I figured out who the murderer was of the relatively easy case I'd been working on. Finally the music stopped and a voice, this time a man, picked up.

"Mister Holmes, I hear you are intrigued by our studies."

"Yes," I answered, "Yes, I am."

"Well we first need to finish off this stage of the process, but afterwards, we'd be delighted to show him to you."

"_Him_?" I asked. Maybe their technologies weren't as amateurish as I'd initially thought.

"Yes, him. He'll be ready for human contact soon. We'll be in touch." He was just about to hang up when I asked another question:

"Wait! But how did you... create _him_?"

"I'm sorry, but that's classified. Good day." _Beep beep beep beep beep. _I put the phone down.

"Who was that?" John asked from behind me. I jerked and stared at him. How long had he been there?

"Uh... I..." He crossed his arms in front of him and raised his eyebrows.

"Sherlock," John said in that reprehending tone, which he reserved solely for saying the eight letters of my name. I still was only able to let out some uhs and ums.

"What were you saying about your DNA?" I decided in that moment to lie, because I had a tendency to take the easy way out of most conversations. It's why I am usually considered "a selfish person."

"It was just some odd inheritable allergy test. You only have a deadly allergy to a kind of... bee, yes, if you have a certain gene. It was just to be sure because I was planning on maybe acquiring some of them, because I'd like to research them." John raised his eyebrows in surprise, but I don't think I saw any disbelief in it.

"Bees? What kind of bee?" I searched my Mind Palace for the fraction of a second (it only took this long because I've always had a fascination for those creatures).

"_Apis Mellifera_, the Africanized Bee," I almost blurted out. John nodded and I smiled because once again my lie had worked and lying remained the unbeatable champion of Easy Ways Out.

They called me months later. I had almost forgotten about it all. I wish they hadn't now. I didn't think twice when they told me that _he _could receive visitors. I was the first who would be allowed, because I was in a way related to him (why no other donors weren't, I didn't know). He was my child in a way, I guess, but the idea of parenthood revolted me. I hoped they wouldn't make me have to raise this genetically mutated kid... That wasn't in the contract, I hadn't paid too much attention to, right? No, no, it couldn't be. Even if, they had more than a handful of DNA-donors who were probably all a more eligible parent than I would ever be. The thought calmed me down as I put on my coat and scarf and headed towards the doorway. Luckily, John asked me nothing about where I was going when I opened the door and quickly walked down stairs. Once outside, a car was waiting for me in a mycrofty manner and after some hesitation I got on. The driver said nothing to me so I said nothing back and simply stared out the window, imagining what _he _would be like. He'd probably have little to no similarities to my infant-self, as my genetics were inside him amongst those of countless others, and I doubted his superiorness would be visible at this early stage. But still, I was intrigued to see this child that without me would not be, wanted to know who he was and who he would become. I wanted to know whether he, whoever he was, would also always take the easy way out. Would he be a better person in my sense of the word or in everyone else's?

Before I knew it, I found myself walking down a corridor of laboratories following a woman wearing a grey suit and excessively high stilettos. She, unlike I, took no notice of the many doors we passed, and probably knew everything about the secrets they hid. My heart started pounding as I noticed I was getting increasingly closer to _him_. What should I say to him? He wouldn't understand me anyways but still... I guess, I just wanted to have a somewhat stable relationship with him. Finally the woman stopped in front of a door and swiped a membership card through a slot in front of it. The lock clicked open and she let me pass first. The room was unlit and she left saying something about getting the professor then closed the door behind me. When I heard another click I knew that I was in fact locked inside now. As I squinted around, waiting for my eyes to adjust a blue shimmer on the far end of the room caught my eye. For a second I pondered over whether I should wait for this professor to arrive, but I dismissed the idea of a Superinfant being in anyway dangerous to me.

With steady steps I made my way towards the light, feeling the glow on my face. As I got closer, I noticed that it was in fact a kind of tank filled with indefinable liquid. It was still too far for me to make anything out except that there was some kind of body growing within it. As I approached the aquarium the feature's _he _had started to take real shape: he had dark hair which gently floated around his closed eyes, and quite pale skin. Once I cautiously took a couple steps closer I could also see that his face was rather long with quite high cheekbones and a strong cupid's bow. I shuttered, as it became clear to me, that this was not an infant but a fully grown, 6 foot tall man. I took the last step, which made the glass be the only thing, which made us unable to touch. My lips quivered as I gazed over his lightly closed lids, which said nothing about his eye hue, but an odd feeling inside told me that they were probably a light, icy, blue. Just like my own. I had absolutely no idea how they'd done it but there _he _was. An adult, Superhuman, who was absolutely identical to me.

"We named him Khan." The voice made me jump and I immediately turned around, prepared to take a defensive position. There stood the afore-mentioned professor, hands in the pockets of his lab coat. He was rather old and didn't seem to have shaven in a month. His jumper was of the sort I was certain that John would instantly find something likable about him, and his old face, though worn-down looked relatively friendly. I stared at him; I'm not sure how long, until I finally understood what he said.

"Why Khan?" I asked, glancing back at the man in the tank. Now that I looked at him more carefully, I did notice some differences. He had a better shape than I did (which was saying something); he had more muscles, but he also looked as if his stamina would be better than mine. Also, in all, he looked harsher than I did.

"Khan means 'leader' in Urdu. We thought it fit him well."

"Why's that?" I asked a little absently, while I watched him in his sleep.

"Well he's the first of his kind. He will lead the world into a new age, an age of Human-Perfection." I said nothing and continued to examine Khan, as if he might suddenly move and I would miss it.

"I suppose," the professor, who still hadn't revealed his name, spoke again, "you are wondering why you and he have so many similarities." I finally took my gaze off the Superhuman.

"Yes," I said less loudly than I usually talk, but it was still loud enough for him to clearly hear me. The professor smiled.

"Well, Mr Holmes, it turns out you have what we call 'almost-perfect genes.' You have all the good traits we can use to achieve perfection." I couldn't quite believe this.

"Even though I don't c-" But he cut me off: "You don't care," he finished the sentence, "Mr Holmes, sentimentality, as I'm sure you know is human's greatest weakness." _Finally _someone who understood me.

"If I am 'perfect', as you say," I turned my head back to the tank, "then why isn't he an exact replica of me?"

"I said almost-perfect. Absolute perfection is impossible for humans..." He smiled. "But not necessarily for Superhumans. What we do is we use your genetic code and locate all the good traits in it; your intelligence, your stamina, your detachedness from others, and we enhance them, strengthen them and eliminate the few faults we can find by replacing them with the genes of our other donors." I looked at him once more, compelled to ask what my faults were, but didn't in the end.

"As a result we have Khan. He is mostly a stronger copy of you, with some small genetic differences." I turned my head back to Khan, sleeping in such a peaceful manner. Suddenly I wondered how he was breathing, but passed the questions once more. I looked at him and saw my reflection. Only better. Khan was an updated, in every way better version of me. I could feel it, pulsing through his veins, the superhuman perfection that I could never achieve. It upset me. It probably wouldn't have, had he not looked exactly like me, minus the fitter body. He was I, but flawless. I wondered whether John could tell the difference between Khan and me, I wondered whether if one day Khan came home instead of me, John would keep living with him, noticing how suddenly I'd become better. At everything.

_Why did you put yourself through this? _I asked myself, realizing how much staring at the first of the perfect Superhumans hurt me. Maybe for once, I thought, I was taking the hard way out.

_If you think that's hard, you're into something._

The whole thing reminded me of why I always took the easy one. I was in fact a coward. When I noticed this, it also sprang to my mind that Khan would not be a coward, and it angered me even more. I was sure Khan wouldn't have gotten angry at such ridicule either. The vicious circle was infuriating. But just as I had enough of staring at him and decided to leave, the still-unnamed professor threw a completely unexpected question at me:

"Would you like to speak to him?" I turned around startled. I'd forgotten he was here, too. Honestly, I had no answer to his question. I couldn't think of how talking to him could worsen the situation anymore, but then again, was I really interested in hearing Khan's more intelligent and more deep thoughts than mine could ever be?

"Yes," I replied quite quickly. The professor smiled at me.

"Well then just stay right where you are." He turned around and left the room, not turning around and remembering that he also had to introduce himself. And so I waited. I don't know what exactly I waited or, what exactly I expected from Khan, Sherlock 2.0, Super-Me, Perfect-Me. Maybe I could learn some things from him, but the truth was that I would and could never be as flawless as he was.

A loud alarm sound interrupted my train of thought. I looked over to the tank and as a light flashed up above the glass, the liquid was slowly drained. Sluggishly, the floating body of Khan sank down to the base of the giant tank until he was kneeling on the ground, though still unconscious. As the liquid got to the top of his head he bent over into a lying down position, so that his face was only out of the blue chemical when it was just a couple of inches high. In that moment I heard a gasp for air. Khan got back up into a kneeling position, his hands on the wet floor of the not completely drained tank, as he took long breaths. His breathing however, regulated after far less time than the average human would've taken to recover from that sort of situation. A door on the back of the tank opened and closed again, once Khan had disappeared through it, seemingly not noticing me, his imperfect doppelgänger on the other side of the glass.


	3. Best

Khan said nothing to me. All he did was answer the professor's questions (it mildly surprised me that he could already speak perfect English. Then I re-thought that and realized how stupid I was for even thinking he couldn't already):

"Tell me your name."

"Khan Noonien Singh."

"What is your purpose?"

"To perfect that which has not been perfected and to find out what perfection really is." _Not me_, I thought.

"Who is your creator?"

"You are, Professor Strider." Finally I found out his name.

"How were you created?"

"By multiplying the genetic strength of others and subtracting their genetic weaknesses."

What really terrified me was his voice. _My _voice. Only... it was stronger. More... everything. Richer, deeper, with perfect-timing. His voice made the sentences he formed with the most visible boredom still sound like vibrant stories. A voice that could do that could only have an even more terrifying owner. After what seemed to be the routine of questions, Professor Strider finally said: "Now, Khan, you have a visitor today." For a second I felt his indeed icy blue eyes glower at me. "I will leave you two alone to talk." Strider got up and left the interrogation room, and I was left sitting on a chair at a table with my better twin sitting opposite me. None of us said a word and we both avoided each other's gazes. I guess it was awkward for him as well. Some time passed.

"How do you see the world?" His voice startled me, which made very little sense, as it was my own, really. I turned my head back to face him and notice how he was then carefully looking at me. It's funny how speechless an image of myself made me. I pondered over his question, wondering whether to tell another lie but decided against it.

"I tend to look at everything and see puzzles, I guess. There are puzzles all around us. What do you see?" I asked it because I was intrigued to know. For the first time ever I saw him crack a smile. But it showed no empathy or friendliness.

"When I look at the world," he started, his eyes scanning the entire room, "I see imperfections. Everything that needs to be improved upon." His eyes were now resting on me. I cleared my throat.

"Well that is why you were created. To improve the human race."

"Is it now?" he asked me. I didn't know how to reply. I had never really been in the presence of someone smarter than me, so I didn't really know what the right way to react was.

"Yes, it is. That's what you told Professor Strider was your pur-"

"I know what I told him!" I closed my mouth, intimidated by him.

_Pathetic_, I thought.

We talked no more, but when I left, I felt Khan Noonien Singh's careful gaze watching my every step, until the door closed behind me.

I resumed my work and tried not to think much of my meeting with my in every way better clone. I didn't like thinking of him. It made me feel inferior. I wondered if people didn't like thinking of me. I tried my best to keep Khan Noonien Singh in the back of my head, tried to forget him, but I couldn't. His frightening, yet alluring smile kept flashing before my eyes. I hated it.

John remained ignorant about his ignorance, which made the whole thing easier anyway. I didn't want to explain to him that some secret governmental organization had made a Superclone, mostly based on my own DNA. I didn't want him to know that there was a man, identical to me, only better in every way imaginable, walking upon this earth. I guess I was simply scared that John might like Khan more than me.

One day, when I came home after finishing a case, I saw that someone had left me a voicemail. I called the answering machine and closed my eyes, listening to the beeps on the other end.

"You have. _One._ New message. (beep) Hello Mr Holmes, it's me, Professor Strider. Listen, Khan's been doing some great progress, and I was wondering if you wanted to come over and see. If tomorrow, say three PM is okay with you, you can just come over, if not, you can just call back. Thank you!"

I stood there for a while replaying the entire message in my head. Why did they want me to see him so badly? I guess they just needed someone to brag to.

_Progress in what?_ I thought. I had seen him. He spoke perfect English, from what I could tell his sense of logic was flawless and physically he was in top condition. What could have been wrong with him?

I got a cab the next day and drove to the HGMA to find out.

When I saw him, I understood. Khan Noonien Singh looked better than ever. Stronger. Smarter. More cunning. More agile. More perfect. How did that even work?

He again avoided my gaze in the most irritating way. All we did was sit at that table opposite from each other, Professor Strider between us. He looked from me to Khan and back for an annoying amount of time before he spoke:

"The resemblance is amazing. When we created the DNA we had no idea it would make so little physical difference. And to think, how much you really are different from each other."

When I was ten, my parents got me a therapist to help me with my "anti-social tendencies." When I told him about how everybody looked stupid, he explained to me that no one could "look" stupid. Well, he also said something about calling someone stupid being rude but I'd usually stopped listening by then. Anyway, I guess he was right and this was the ultimate proof: even though I was almost identical to Khan, his absolute genius cast a dark shadow over my sheer brilliance. I began wondering whether if people saw us two together, they'd think that I was a poor copy and he was the original. The original tends to be better. Like paintings people try to copy, or pictures on the internet taken as screenshots. I wondered if they would think that someone had tried to figure out Khan's highly complex mind, given up and handed me in as their science project. A brilliant man, but not a perfect genius. An easy way out.

Again, Professor Strider left us alone for "privacy" time, but said that he wanted to show me something else afterwards. The door clicked shut and for the first time that day, Khan looked directly at me, his eyes glimmering in a brighter blue than mine could ever be.

"What do you do?" His voice was sharp, quick and clear. I couldn't come up with an answer at first. I guessed that it was in his nature to want to learn new things.

"I," I sat back up straight, "I'm a Consulting Detective. Basically, I just help out the police whenever they are too small-minded to figure it out themselves."

He didn't seem to even think about my answer before he threw another question at me.

"Whom do you work with?"

"Detective Inspector Lestrade and Dr John Watson amongst others."

"Where do you work?"

"Scotland Yard"

"Where do you live?"

"221B Baker Street.

...

It was stupid, I know. But I'm pretty sure I was just enjoying that all the attention was towards me again. So I answered each and all of his questions truthfully, not knowing that I was in fact driving past the last exit for the Easy Way Out.

When Professor Strider opened the room again, Khan glared at him in the way he usually glared at me. As if he didn't like being interrupted. The professor told us that it was time for me to leave and for Khan to go back in the tank. The Superhuman's eyes flickered at those words. I got up from the chair and nodded at him, which was supposed to be a kind of goodbye and left the room without looking back.

Once the door was closed, I followed Professor Strider down the hallway.

"So, what is it you wanted to show me?"

"Oh, Mr Holmes, we've made a lot of progress since your last visit, all because of Khan." I almost had to run to keep up with his pace.

"And what kind of progress, may I ask?"

"Khan has found out how to create new perfect DNA. We already have dozens of new _Homo Superia _growing."

"_Homo Superia_?" I asked.

"Yes, that's how we named his race." I nodded. The name was good. It made the name of my race, _homo sapiens sapiens, _which literally translated to "smart smart human", look completely stupid. Certainly that whoever had come up with it could've gone with _homo valde sapiens_, for example, which would at least mean "very smart human."

"So genetics is his specialty?" I asked after some time.

"Everything is his specialty." I raised an eyebrow.

"He's even already learned to play the violin." I imagined him playing and composing, better than I could ever be.

"What else does he do?"

"I'm sorry that's classified." I was confused as to why everything else _wasn't _classified to me.

"So, what did you want to show me?"

"Them," was all he said as he took a right turn down the hall. At first, I wanted to ask who _they _were, but soon I understood. _They_ were _his _race. _His _creation. _They _were _homo superia._

Professor Strider opened a door with his key card and held the door open for me.

"_Après vous_," he said. I smiled tightly, then looked away and rolled my eyes at how people seem to think speaking French makes you chic. The room was huge, and it took me a while to realize, that this was actually the same one as the one I'd entered on my first visit. The room was dim and the tank shimmered in that same blue at the far end of the room. From this distance, I could already make out that there were five bodies floating in it. I wondered how many more there could be in the entire institute. As I approached the tank, I saw that in it were three women and two men, all looking strong enough to perform splendidly in Olympic events. They were flawless, just like he was, but looking at them didn't irritate me as much. These were just five _homo superia_. These weren't copies of me. They were entirely new faces, stolen from no one, created for one sole purpose: to be perfect and to improve the imperfect.

It was overwhelming how much the Human Genetics Mutation Academy had done in the six months since I'd given them that tiny hair and blood probe. It was going so fast. Perhaps too fast. I stared at their relaxed faces, as they slowly floated up and down the unidentifiable liquid. Suddenly I realized that my visits here were really only harming my usually high self-esteem, so I kindly asked Professor Strider to not invite me to see Khan's progress again and made my way out the door. He was disappointed, but didn't negotiate. Once I gave him my fare wells, I quickly made my way to the door, thinking that it was the Easy Way Out, not knowing that that train had departed a long time ago.


	4. Bad

I shared a total of four phone calls with the HGMA. This was the third one:

My phone started buzzing in the middle of the Ode To Joy. I rolled my eyes and lowered my violin. Normally I would've just let it ring out but I think in that moment, I had been caseless for a week or two and didn't want to miss any potential client. I walked over to the coffee table and picked up.

"Hello?"

"Oh, God, finally, someone's answering," a desperate, vaguely familiar woman's voice panted. I hesitated a second.

"Who is this?" She didn't answer, instead she started whispering:

"He-he's gone insane. He's killed the professor, he..." she trailed off and started sobbing. And suddenly I remembered. She was the secretary who had lead me through the academy the first time I'd come. I was almost certain of who _he_ was, but one thing I have in common with most _homo valde sapiens_ was that my hopes die last;

"Who is he?"

"H-. Oh no! He's here! He-" _beep beep beep beep._

I stood very still. I still couldn't be sure that it was him, but there were more things pointing towards it than not. Swallowing hardly, I wondered about what I should do. At first I thought of informing the police, but realized that the HGMA would sue me for contract-breach. I only had one choice: go in there myself. It was stupid. Completely illogical. How was I supposed to stop any _homo superia_? How could I ever?

I wasn't thinking straight in that moment, that was sure. I couldn't come up with any other option so I grabbed my coat and scarf and opened the door. I felt guilty. It was all my fault. As I walked down stairs I heard John's voice cry after me:

"Where are you going?" I froze and didn't look back at him.

"I just got a call. There's a new case. Shouldn't be too hard, I can do it myself." It was implausible, I knew. John was usually the one sent out to not too hard cases, but with how slow things had been maybe, just maybe...

"All right."

The Easy Way Out had won the round again. I smiled. I made my way to the road and got a cab to the academy. Once there, I cautiously stepped out and entered the huge building with which I was a little familiar.

The inside was unlit, but daylight that came through the windows showed how the reception table had been pushed over. A metallic smell stung itself into my nose. A smell I could never misplace and was able to recognize from a great distance; blood. I didn't know what to do, so I decided to simply walk down the halls.

My steps were slow and evenly paced. I looked at every door, noticing how each and every card lock was broken. It was so quiet I could've heard a pin drop.

I stood still in front of the door in which I had seen Khan for the first time, the room with the tank. Hesitantly, I pushed the door open cautiously. I stepped inside and looked around. The tank was empty.

Biting my lip, I made my way to the shimmering blue liquid. Once in front of the aquarium, I waited, still clueless about how I should defeat Khan, The Leader, Perfect-Me, _homo superia_.

Suddenly the door opened behind me and I frantically turned around. With a despicable smile, he aimed an odd looking laser or ray gun at me.

After that, all I remember is a zapping sound and my own voice telling me _Sweet dreams, detective._


	5. Worse

I regained consciousness, but I couldn't wake up. It was the most horrifying feeling. I was completely aware of how I had lost my consciousness but my eyes just refused to open. Everything around me was cold. My arms and legs gently floated in the fluid and I felt lighter than I ever had in my entire life. But still I panicked. I was in the tank, he'd thrown me in, but I couldn't do anything, and only at this point, did I really understand how it worked:

The fluid had all the neutrinos and oxygen needed to survive, but precisely that amount, making me unable to move or do anything else. I was basically swimming in a coma.

I panicked more because my body was unable to panic. My heart rates stayed just as sluggish as they were before and I was sure that if someone was looking at me right then, they'd think I was dreaming peaceful dreams about flowers and butterflies. A buzzing noise filled my ears. I panicked even more.

I couldn't think. I was absolutely terrified, and frozen to the bone and petrified. I just wanted to open my eyes, I just wanted to have some proof I wasn't actually dead. I just wanted an easy way out.

After some time, I calmed down a little. I wondered if I could be mistaken for homo superia now, or if any idiot could figure out I was merely _homo valde sapiens_, as I named it now. I could just barely feel my hair brushing my forehead, and realized how pleasant it was, when one was freezing. I tried to dream, tried to not have as straight thoughts so that time would pass a little faster, but I couldn't. I was so close to sleeping, I never needed to sleep. The idea that I would have to stay conscious for the rest of my life crossed my mind. I panicked again.

In this state, panic was the most vicious of circles: First you panic because you're there, and then you start panicking because your body isn't responding to the panic, and because you can't feel an adrenaline kick and you almost have a mental break down, without ever taking a deep breath. It hurt, but not physically like the cold liquid stinging my skin did. It hurt the middle of my head, the unreachable part, the part so deep in me, no star-surgeon could ever reach it.

How much time had passed? I had no idea. I had nothing to go on. I couldn't see a thing, the buzzing in my ears was constant and I couldn't even calculate time relative to how long my breaths were because I wasn't breathing. Somehow, I absorbed everything through my skin, which was why it was so cold. It wasn't just touching me, it was in me.

I felt a sting or a burn or something of the sort in my rib cage. I tried to reach for it, but my arm stayed heavy and afloat in the fluid. This again created panic. The sting continued and wouldn't stop, it just got worse and worse until I forgot how cold I was and then I realized what was happening.

This fluid hadn't been created for me; it had been created for _homo superia. That's_ why I was so cold. As for the sting: I was drowning; drowning in the most painful way: slowly. Drop by drop.

In that moment I panicked again, but at least this time, panic wasn't irrational.

Later I felt a sting on the other side of my chest and then another just above it. The thing I wanted in that moment the most, was to sigh. Sighing: the act of exhaling that manages to make you feel just a little bit better in almost every situation. Why couldn't I just sigh one last time before I was going to die? The stings grouped up more and more, it felt like eons but each was more painful than the last. It was as if death was a disease, starting at my lungs and then spreading out across my body, causing me more pain because of de-oxidation. Everything hurt. Everything was freezing. Everything was on fire and yet wet. I just wanted to die, but for some reason I was granted these agonizing moments instead.

WHERE ARE EASY WAYS OUT WHEN YOU REALLY, REALLY NEED THEM? I thought and got another panic attack. Panic attacks didn't help, but at least they proved to me over and over again that I was neither dead nor solely made of physical pain.

In the meantime, my lungs had started to feel like I'd choked on a glass of water, but I couldn't cough, there wasn't enough force in my mouth to open and gag the liquid out. The worst part was knowing that if I could just gather up the strength to kick off the ground of the tank, I could get to air and the spell would be broken. But the whole idea was that it was supposed to hold Khan back. If it held him back, how could I fight it?

_Please let me cough, please let me cough, please let me cough, please let me cough_.

I didn't care any more that Khan was probably planning to destroy the entire planet, all I wanted was to cough, be released from the pain for just one second and then drop dead. Why wouldn't they let me at least do that?

In that moment I heard something interrupt the buzzing and I felt as the water pulled me down to the ground, gently laying me on the tiled floor and a wave splattered into my face.

When you're in the ocean, waves can only splat into your face when you're above the water.


	6. Worst

The first breath I took was the most relieving and painful thing ever. It was like gasoline had been poured over the fire in my chest, making the flames grow more than ever, but at the same time, it was such a thick layer, it also suffocated most of it. I took another deep breath and when I exhaled, that cough finally forced itself up my throat. It hurt even more than breathing, but I couldn't stop myself.

The fluid was drained completely and I put all my strength together to push myself into a sitting position with my right arm. I could barely think straight. I choked even more, my eyes still closed, trying to get that little bit of liquid out of my lungs. Finally I gagged, and vomited. There was nothing in my stomach, so all that came out was some fluid.

I opened my eyes and the brightness of the room burned, but I didn't close them again, because I didn't want to not see what was going on.

My whole body was shivering because of the cold the fluid had left me with, and my first deep breaths turned into quick pants. My heart rate finally exhilarated and I pulled my knees up and held onto them, trying to warm up.

Suddenly the door behind me opened, but I wasn't strong enough to turn around. I noticed how starving I was. Quick steps got close to me, and my eyes closed again, knowing this was the end. I would never be able to fight anyone like this.

But instead I felt a blanket be placed around my shoulders, and when I opened my eyes again and looked up, I saw two friendly, unfamiliar faces looking down at me sympathetically. I wrapped the blanket around myself more and tried to warm up, but couldn't.

Everything still hurt from deoxidation, but the fact that I was breathing made the pain bearable.

After a couple minutes I was strong enough to be able to get up with their help and get out of the empty tank. We were back in the interrogation room, I was now fully dressed, wearing my clothes and coat which had been found next to the tank, and with the blanket over me, but still struggling to be warm. The two men were members of the HGMA and asked me some questions:

"Mr Holmes, who did this to you?"

"F-f-f-f-f-f-khan." I couldn't speak properly. My breaths were still too quick and I was f-f-f-f-f-forced to speak like f-f-f-f-f-f-this. My voice was extremely hoarse and I was surprised they could hear me.

"How did he do this to you?"

"He... he f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-shot at me with a f-f-f-f-f-f-f-faser." The L in "laser" was lost among the Fs, but faser or phaser was a nice word to describe that gun he'd used.

"It f-f-f-f-f-stunned me and he f-f-f-f-f-frew me in there." The thought of what had happened made me panic again and soon, I couldn't speak anything but "F-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f."

They stopped asking when they noticed and guided my clumsy self through a part of the HGMA that I had never seen before. It was a hospital wing and they put me into a bed and gave me something that made me feel drowsy and I could think even less straight than before, and my eyes started to close and I felt how soft the cushion under my head was and that I was slowly getting warm and that hypothermia plays with your head and that the wall was a beautiful shade of white and that sleeping pills play with your head even more and that I was falling asleep.

When I woke up, I was pleased to notice that I was almost warm and that I could speak properly again. I was being fed through a tube, but at least I wasn't hungry anymore. Shortly after my awakening the two men from before entered the hospital wing. They told me that the hypothermia was gone and that I had recovered extremely quickly ("I can see why they chose your DNA.") But I wasn't really sure what had happened. The sleeping pills blurred it all.

They explained to me that Khan had suddenly lost it three days before. He had used weapons, designed by himself to kill off many of the Human Genetic Mutation Academy's staff. When I got there, he shot at me using a stunning phaser (I didn't bother interrupting to tell them that I'd meant "laser" not "phaser") and threw me in the tank. Two days later, staff members who had fled from the HGMA were able to re-establish access to the security cameras and tell that no one was there. They swept the building and found me, slowly suffocating in the blue fluid. There had been no trace of Khan.

Even though I wasn't anymore, I felt sick.

How could I have been so stupid?! How could I have let him simply shoot me and make me unable to do anything for two full days? And then, when I was free, what do I do? Sleep!

I don't care that I was in a critical state, disoriented, famished, out of breath. I still shouldn't have just let them give me those pills and make me lose one more day when Khan could do God knows what.

I think this was the first time I ever hated myself for taking an easy way out.

"I need to get out! I need to find him!" I yelled, pushing the alarmingly white covers off. I wanted to get up, but then I noticed I was still hooked up.

"Sir, we strongly recommend you remain calm and in your bed!" I glared at them furiously as I tried to remove the bandage on my arm.

"No, he's out there and it's my fault."

"We can assure you, it is not your fault."

I sat there, my hand holding the end of the bandage that hid the needle stuck onto my arm with tape, for a while, simply glaring at him.

"How," I began, "_How_ is this not my fault?! It's my genes he carries in him, my enhanced brilliance, my enhanced stamina, my enhanced strength, my," I paused, "my enhanced psychopathy. I'm the one who signed your bloody contract! I'm the one who gave you those bloody probes! In what way is it _not_ my fault?!"

"Khan is the one who-" I interrupted him:

"Yes, and I look like him." There was a long silence.

"Even if it was," the second man started, "you can't fight him he's too strong."

"Can you?" Sherlock asked. Neither man replied.

"Then I can try," I waited a little to continue: "I'm the only one who stands even the slightest chance against him." They stared at me in that way people looked while I was bragging about my brilliance. I guess even when I'm selfless, I'm still arrogant.

"And why's that, Mr Holmes?"

"Like I said, I look like him."


	7. Deterioration

Once they'd unhooked me, I went straight back to 221B. What I said was true; I was the only one who stood a chance against him because I was the closest to knowing how he thought. But I would need help to take him down. A lot of help. I would need John. Plus, I had this urge. This urge to tell him what I possibly should have had told him months before, the second I accepted those 1500 Pounds, told him before that in fact. I didn't know why, but I was starting to feel as if I was now looking upon my life and that it was just a screwed up mess. I wanted to go back to whenever this insecurity had started and make sure it never happened but some easy ways out are only possible in your imagination.

The cab dropped me off and I paid him, minus a tip, staring at the black door. Would John be home? He must've been looking for me. I'd forgotten that I was stuck in that tank for several days and then in an alien bed with hypothermia for one more. The thought sent a shiver down my spine. God, John could be worried sick about me. I decided not to waste any more time thinking about what could be going on and reached for my key in the pocket of my coat. The door clicked unlocked and I made my way up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. I opened the door and saw John. And Khan.

He was wearing a black suit and a purple shirt under, just like you'd expect it from Sherlock Holmes. The Superhuman's hair was the same colour as it had been three days before but it were now curly like mine was. In his hand, he held a violin bow against the strings of the instrument, _my_ instrument, which was placed beneath his chin in that same way I had countless times. The site was horrible enough for me to witness but the part that really got me, was that just before I entered, they were casually conversing, in that way _Sherlock _and John were known for. Khan had taken him in. And it broke my heart just a tiny bit.

Because all this time, I had one thing – just one thing – over Khan. I was _the original_; he was based on me, he came from me, and not the other way around. I thought that being _the original_ was that one thing I had achieved and that he could never, ever manage. But if he could fool my very best friend, he could trick anyone into thinking he was in fact the original. And if he could do that, he was.

A truth after all is a truth when people believe it, not when it is true.

Everyone in the living room of 221B Baker Street, London stood very, very still. Khan and I both narrowed eyes at each other, me trying very hard not to show how hurt I was that John thought he –who had thrown me in a tank in hopes to slowly kill me and take over my identity– was I. Khan lowered my violin and held both it and the bow very tightly as he looked at me. His face read something like _How dare you human pest survive? _John looked properly terrified, as he exchanged looking at me then at Khan. He rubbed his eyes, but neither of us disappeared, and after a while he had to admit to himself that he wasn't drunk, nor drugged but that his flat mate had a doppelgänger. The question for him however, and I feared that he would not make the right decision, was which was which.

"You!" Khan said his voice now completely mine; that richness and depth it used to have, gone. He turned back to John. "John, this is a genetic experiment, an impure being. Don't trust it."

That was an insult. I know he was claiming I was him, but he still named me impure. Very well disguised sarcasm. _Homo superia _or not, he was still British.

I looked at John and shook my head lightly.

"No, that's not true," I whispered, "He's the genetic mutation." I noticed how ridiculous the whole thing sounded. But with two people looking almost exactly identical, why wouldn't John believe us – or better said, one of us? He got up and took a shuttered breath, still switching between staring at Khan, then me.

"Are you seriously going to trust it? When it just stepped into your living room? You know I'm the real Sherlock."

_I know,_ I was sure he was going to say, and I was sure it would kill me. Kill me more than him being better, because that was _nothing_ compared to actually having my identity ripped from my hands. But that isn't what John answered. He refused to look at either of us while talking:

"I don't know anything right now."

"Why not?" asked Khan. John looked up at him, and I realized that that would actually be the thing I would've said:

_Why don't you know? Why are you such an idiot, John? Why can't you just think?_

"Because you are both trying to make me believe that the other is a genetic mutation and that I shouldn't trust it under any circumstances..."

There was a brief silence.

"You need to prove to me you're the real Sherlock."

"Yes, an intelligence test," said Khan. I saw through his game immediately.

"No! You can't do that! He's smarter than I; they made him smarter than me."

Khan pointed at me. "See! He's trying to get himself out of this. No scientist could ever make a mutation of me that was as intelligent as I."

John seemed completely torn between us two, and I cursed myself for being a good actor, therefore Khan being a better actor.

"No. Any fool can pass an intelligence test. Ask us a question about our life. _My_ life," I corrected. I was taking back what was mine. Khan shot me a poisonous look, and I knew he wanted nothing more than to throw me back in that tank this instant, lock the door so I died of the most painful death possible, but right then and right there, he still had a slim chance to win and attacking me, revealing his superhuman strength, would not help in convincing John.

"Say something only Sherlock would know," said John. I was about to open my mouth but The Other Sherlock was faster:

"Earlier this morning you got a phone call from your girlfriend telling you that she wants to end it and cancelled your dinner that you wanted to reserve. How do I know?

There's a tea mug and a block of paper next to the phone. The block is stained with tea. The prints on the buttons show that you were the one who called; her speed dial to be specific. the block was to take notes. Now why did you need to take notes for a conversation with your girlfriend? Well it says 'call' on the top, and so you were planning something with her. Beneath you wrote 'restaurant' meaning you were planning which restaurant you wanted to go to. You were taking a sip when she told you something, making you spill some tea on the block. The way the pen is laying on the block indicates you let it fall right onto the block from a held position. That means you asked her which restaurant she wanted to go to, took a sip and she then told you something unexpected, which clearly cancelled your dinner as you did not write anything else on the paper. Now, lastly, why was it a break up?

Because would it've been any other issue, she would've told you before the subject of which restaurant came up. Am I wrong?"

Even though that deduction was good and completely unexpected, I couldn't help but focus on John's reactions: He would mostly be looking at Khan, but sometimes his eyes would flash over to me and he'd look at me almost... sympathetically.

He stared at me in a way you stare at others when you ask for their opinion, and then just in the last second decide what you want, and they tell you the opposite. When my doppelgänger finished his long speech he looked at me triumphantly, and John was still looking at both of us confused, and I had to admit that I was beaten at my own game.

But then I had an idea.

"Any smart person can deduce. But it takes great brilliance to not know whether the earth goes 'round the sun."

There was Khan, staring at me with one of the most irritated looks I'd ever seen. I'm pretty sure he thought I'd lost it, but then there was John, whose face lit up at that, and I smiled because it meant he'd had a hunch and he was right.

Then came the hard part.

The truth was out. But now that it was, each and every one of us knew that the wrong Sherlock, Sherlock to my right (John's left), the aforementioned genetic mutation, was now a threat. All three of us were staring at each other, as if waiting for the bell of the Final Round.

"Vatican cameos!" I yelled. And that was our bell. I knew Khan was strong, stronger than I. But we were two attacking from both sides. We could get him, right?

_Wrong,_ said a voice in my head that strongly resembled mine, only deeper, richer:

John and I threw ourselves onto him, but his reflexes were so sharp he swung his arms and pushed me to the ground with great force. I got up, even though I was still dizzy from the strength of that hit. When I looked around for a second, I could barely catch on that John was still on the carpet from his hit, before the _homo superia_'s arm hit me from behind and I crumpled back to the floor. My whole back ached, but still I pushed myself up, only to be slammed down again.

"Oh, you are strong. Stronger than all the others. I can see why they chose you."

Every time I tried to get up, he hit me back down, and for one reason or another, I kept trying when John had long stopped.

"You're very strong in fact. You survived two days in that tank. Impressive." No, I was not impressive. I was not remarkable. But most importantly: I was not strong. I was a coward. An Easy Way Outer.

"You didn't only get the looks from me," I replied. Khan chuckled slightly, and in that moment, the thing I envied him most for was that he could chuckle without his chest hurting at every breath. Again I attempted to get up, and he hit me back down with ease. My arms couldn't move anymore. Every part of my body was in total agony, my lungs still felt fragile from the hypothermia; I was dizzy and felt sick. I stayed still for that moment, waiting on the ground for Khan to kill me. He didn't.

"Why haven't you killed me yet?" Even with my eyes closed, I could tell Khan was smiling at me; Giving me that grin that had already alarmed me at our first meeting.

"Oh don't worry, detective, you'll get your turn soon." I took a deep breath.

"Why did you try to take my identity?"

He whispered softly in the most despicable way: "Pleasure."

Although it hurt like mad, I asked another question, still trying to recollect my strength to move again:

"What are you planning to do?"

He paused. I heard steps get closer to me. Suddenly a cold, yet familiar hand grabbed me by the chin and pulled me up. Two pairs of identical, icy blue eyes stared at each other.

"I am planning to wipe every single flawed human off the face of this planet."

So this is what he'd meant when we met: His purpose may've been to improve the imperfect, but he believed that perfection could only be found through destruction of the imperfect. Khan let go of my chin and I was able to remain in the sitting position. He got up and walked towards the door.

"And how will you do that?" I asked. He turned around and flashed me a look.

"Now there's a puzzle for you, detective."

I would've run after him, but I was too weak and even if I wasn't, I would've never been able to catch him.


	8. Amelioration

I knew John had recovered from Khan's hits; still he didn't sit up. It took me less time to be able to move again, but I imagine he was in much more of a shock than I was. I rubbed my shoulder blades until they didn't hurt as much and finally I got up. Khan terrified me even more now. But instead of wanting even more help, I wanted less than before. I looked around. It was the perfect moment to just sneak off without an explanation, the perfect moment for an easy way out.

_John is still in too much of a trance state, trying to wrap his head around the whole thing, so I can just quietly open the door and..._

"_Sherlock,_" came that tone from behind me again.

_Damn it._

I turned around, rolling my lips inwards. John was holding onto his head and finally pushing himself up. It took him quite some time, but when he was up, he crossed his arms and looked at me expectantly. I didn't understand what he was expecting from me.

"_Well__?!_" _Why does John always give me riddles when I want to leave?_

"Well what?" John was giving me that you-cannot-be-serious face, and I knew I'd messed something up again. I took no pride in it, but I still didn't know what he was talking about. Finally, John explained:

"Okay, you've made your point! You're the real Sherlock Holmes. And we just got out of whatever the bloody hell that was alive, for reasons still unknown to me! But, could you please just explain to me who that guy was?!"

Oh. I did miss something.

I didn't really know how to explain the whole thing to him, but I figured that where it all began was a good start:

"Well, basically, almost a year ago, while you were out once, a secret organization called the Human Genetics Mutation Academy contacted me, asking for a DNA sample. They wanted to create a new, improved form of human, based upon selective DNA mixing. The pay was good so I accepted without thinking much of it. They called me a few months after that, asking me if I wanted to see _him_. I expected it to be an embryo or a foetus or possibly an infant but not a fully grown, almost completely identical to me man.

"However, we are not the same. Khan is a in every way better version. Because they found out my genetic code was 'almost perfect' and basically enhanced the strengths and removed the flaws.

"But, three days ago, when I told you that I had a case and didn't need your help... I was actually going to the HGMA because I'd received a call telling me that Khan had gone out of control and murdered staff members there. He threw me into this special tank that makes you unable to move and left me to slowly, but painfully drown in it. He then took over my identity here. Yesterday two men found me in the tank and pulled me out, however, only let me out today due to the hypothermia I'd developed while in the fluid."

John remained silent for some time. I imagine he was re-thinking the past three days, looking for anything that could've indicated that he had not been with Sherlock Holmes during that time. Suddenly I remembered the face he'd been giving me.

"While Khan was deducing, you were looking at me as if you already knew I was the real one. How did you know?"

John smiled at me. "You aren't that much taller than me." I laughed.

"So," he asked, "What are we planning to do?"

"_We_ aren't doing anything, _I_ will stop Khan."

"Sherlock, don't do this now."

"Don't do what now?"

"That thing that you do, when you selfishly are selfless." Do I really do that?

"No, you don't understand, John. This is my fault, and it has nothing to do with you. I'm the only one who's got a remote chance against him."

"Ah, see this is where your arrogance comes back in again."

"Sorry?" John took a couple steps closer to me.

"Sherlock, we've been living together for years. I _know_ you. And I know you're strong, I know you're smart, I know you're resilient, but, I also just saw one man, or whatever he was, throw you down to the ground about ten consecutive times! You may have the best chance against him out of every human, alone, but your chances are still about zero. If you want to be a 'heroic' selfish bastard, then leave and I won't follow you. But if you actually want to save someone from him and right your wrongs, then let me help you."

There was a long silence followed by the click of the sitting room door.

John Watson and I left 221B Baker Street later that minute. I hailed for a cab and we made our way to the academy.


	9. Easy

We arrived at the HGMA at approximately 3:30 in the afternoon. Neither of us really knew what to do. How does one beat a better version of one's self anyways? How does one beat someone who hasn't got any weaknesses?

The answer, of course, as I explained to John, is find out their weaknesses.

"Sherlock, what you just said is disturbingly contradictory."

"He can't possibly have _no_ weaknesses. He's just concealing them well. What we have to do, is find out what they are."

"How are we gonna do that?"

"I'd suggest we get in there and search his records." We entered the building, and found that it was still temporarily closed for investigations. As we slowly walked down the by now for me familiar corridors, I could feel John's nervousness growing with each step he took in the institution.

"How do we know he isn't waiting for us here?"

"We don't, and I was honestly hoping he was." John replied to that with that Sherlock Why Do I Put Up With You, You Are Clearly Insane And Should Not Be Permitted At Crime Scenes Look, to which I replied with my You Asked To Come Look. The answer to John's question (the one about why he puts up with me) was in fact quite simple though: John was the one thing I could not be; a Hard Way Outer. Whatever problems he had, John faced them, fearlessly, honestly, always taking the path that would hurt others the least and him the most. Sometimes I wished I could be more like him. But being more like him would mean leaving Easy Ways Out, which was not an easy way out. In short: I was a lazy selfish bastard, whether I let John come with me or not. You may argue this however much you want once I'm done here, but stop interrupting your reading for your side note thoughts and read the rest before claiming you know all the facts, which you clearly do not. I shall now resume the point I'm trying to make.

Finally, I replied to the Look:

"Look, we're going to have to face Khan sooner or later, and since we're here to find something, once we're done with that, it'd be practical if he weren't too far from us."

John nodded. "Okay, fine, whatever, I guess you are more sure of what you're doing than I am." That is a common mistake people make about me. I'm _not_ sure of what I'm doing; I just am incredibly good at making it pass off as if I am. Also, I'm amazingly good at guessing. I do guess with some certainty, but more often than you'd think I am deducing things that I assume to be correct but by no means have to be correct. I wondered if Khan knew what he was doing.

We walked a couple minutes, remaining silent, as the flashlight John had taken along lit our path through the labyrinth of hallways. A sign next to one of the doors caught my attention: Records.

"Bingo," I said quietly, but not quietly enough for John not to notice. Instead of asking, he simply searched like he'd learned. I realized once again how he had been ready to change for me, to take the hard way out so I could continue the dead end road known as the Easy Way Out. Without needing to exchange a word, I checked whether the door was open, but found that with the power failure the doors were still unlocked. We both looked at each other a second, and I entered the room.

The room was by far in the worst state of all that I'd scene up until then; all of the file drawers had been thrown to the floor, files spread out everywhere. Someone had been there before us, and both of us were quite sure of who it was.

"Well, this might make it a bit more difficult to find what we're looking…" John pointed out in that irritatingly obvious way, but I resisted commenting upon it.

"Better get to work then." I kneeled forward, pushed a couple files aside and sat down on the small bear spot. I then grabbed a pile of the documents and skimmed through it. Nothing. Pursing my lips, I put the files down. John imitated my actions.

Like this we continued for an hour, finding nothing useful until: "Sherlock! Look!" cried John. I looked up and crawled over the disregarded documents to glance on the paper:

_Khan Noonien Singh – Personal Records_

_Created: 30th March 2013, by Professor George L. Strider, based mostly upon the DNA of Sherlock Holmes along with dozens of other individuals._

I zipped past all the basic information and the introduction talking about The People Of Tomorrow, and Hope For The Human Race etc. At the bottom of the page stood the word "Weaknesses:" however, the rest of the page had been ripped off. I looked at John and he looked at me, when we realized that Khan was not going to let us know what his weaknesses were.

The first one was easy to figure out: He was obviously extremely proud and arrogant, like me. He didn't want anybody to know his weaknesses under any circumstances.

"So how do we find out the others?" John asked.

"Well I think this is a job just for you," I answered.

"Hmm?" John was clearly still confused.

"They took all my traits, and replaced some with good traits from others, which means that the only bad traits he has, must be from me. I think you probably know my bad traits above all."

"Um..." I'd thought this might make John uncomfortable.

"John, listen, just do it, it's okay."

"Well, you hate being wrong?"

"Yes, but the difference is, Khan is never wrong."

"Bu-"

"Continue."

"Sherlock, I don't know!"

"You know them when I'm upsetting you though."

"Then you should know as well."

"False, I've probably deleted it." John sighed.

"Well... You don't like being sensitive with people."

"That is a good trait."

"No, it isn-"

"John, Strider wanted me because of that."

"Fine..." John was clearly getting frustrated at the whole situation.

"Okay, let's try this differently: You spent the most time with him, did you notice anything?"

"No, Sherlock! Why would I have? I thought he was-" Me. He thought he was me. John stopped talking when he noticed me look down at that.

But then I wasn't envious of Khan anymore, but of him. Because he could notice such things that I had never been capable of noticing.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to hurt you," he finally said. _Why don't I ever apologize? – Because I'm an Easy Way Outer, obviously._

"It's fine; it's not your fault." _But mine. _An awkward silence followed.

"Well, obviously we won't find anything else here, let's go." I pushed myself up and offered a hand to John who then gladly took it. We exited the room and I chose a new one to search in at random. It was dark inside, but when my eyes adjusted I could recognize a ray gun, similar to the one Khan had pointed at me. _Phaser, _I thought. John entered a little after me and walked towards the table in the middle of the room. There were weapons of all sort spread out on it. I told him not to touch any because they could be dangerous but then hypocritically took the phaser and held it up to my face. When examined more closely, I could see that there were different settings on it. We were in one of the many tank rooms, and new homo superia was growing on the other end of the room.

_So this is where the power's gone._

I signalled John to follow me as I approached the tank. He stared at the Superhumans on the other side of the Plexiglas, probably searching their weaknesses, but finding none. I didn't feel the need to do that to myself again, so instead, I looked at the screen next to the tank, which showed the life signs, not just of the five in the tank next to us, but of all seventy-two homo superia who were in tanks all over the HGMA. I thought of how they thought like he did, of what they wanted to do and my eyes fell onto the big red button with the inscription FREEZE ALL TANKS. My finger hovered over it, searching for the bravery to commit genocide towards a brand new species. That they wanted to do the same with a race one-hundred-million times larger didn't seem to be reason enough for me. I called John over so that someone could witness my actions. He looked at the button, then looked at me, nodded and said nothing else, waiting for the final push.

I could've ended it right then and there. But I wanted to wait. Give them a last moment.

"What are you doing?" The deeper, richer voice had never been so angry at me. We both turned around simultaneously and were once again facing Khan, The Leader. He was furious, but still he smiled in the most terrifying way. In his hand, Khan held one of the phasers and was cautiously approaching us. Once next to the monitor, Khan made a sign with the weapon for us to step away, so we did. Neither I, nor John said a word.

"So, what to do, what to do with him?" Khan wasn't talking to us. I think he was addressing the Superhumans in the tank. I didn't know if he was mad or if maybe, they had some kind of psychic link.

"Shall we wait for the right moment, or shall we execute him on the spot? ... Yes, I like that idea better." He turned around swiftly and glared at me for a couple seconds.

"It is time, detective." His smile terrified me much more than death did. I had to admit to myself that I'd been wrong and that I couldn't stop him. I shot John one last glance.

"I'm sorry," I mouthed, but I'm not sure what I was apologizing for. At the time it was for having let Khan exist, but now I think it was for accepting the easy way out of the situation once more. John gave me a for once unreadable look and I turned away from him, facing my better twin.

He smiled at me, took the phaser and aimed it at me. With a swift flick of the gun, he signalled me to bow down beneath him, which I then did, looking down in shame.

"And now, behold as I make my first _real_ kill, take my first step towards perfecting the world, erase one more of the countless imperfections. Brothers and sisters, behold as I, Khan Noonien Singh, leader of the Homo Superia, destroyer of the Human Race, execute Sherlock Holmes."

My eyes were fixed on his slim but muscular legs while he spoke, but I didn't want Khan to be the last thing I'd ever look at. I wanted to look at someone I strove to be more like, and to be clear, I did not, at least not in that moment, strive to be more like him; I turned my head to my rock, my Hard Way Outer, but he wasn't standing behind me anymore. My eyes widened, as I turned back to Khan, who was about to pull the trigger, when John threw himself onto him. There was a zap, but the phaser missed. I jumped up in alarm and saw as the two struggled together for a couple seconds when the most horrifying thing I've ever seen happened:

Khan grabbed John's arms that had been wrapped around his neck and threw him to the ground so hardly, I could swear I heard a bone break. I was far too numb and in shock to do anything. Khan then took John by his shoulders and forced him into a sitting position. He then grabbed both sides of his head and pulled. His head went red as he pulled, and I imagined myself in his position and I felt my own skin burn and muscles ache. The whole process was so agonizing to watch for me. This was the moment I first really understood what commiseration was.

There was a scream, but I'm not sure whether it was mine or John's. The blood however, was definitely his.


	10. Agony

I was completely numb. The whole world around me switched off and I was now floating through darkness, trying to erase what I'd just seen permanently from my data core, but instead the memory just kept replaying in more shinier and brighter colours than before. It couldn't be true, it couldn't possibly be true. I must've had dreamt it. Khan was talking to me but I cancelled his voice out and for once was glad to hear a buzzing noise. I felt as if I was in the tank again, but this time, there was no cold but warmth. My whole body was radiant with heat from my pumping heart. I felt sick and dizzy though my eyes were closed and suddenly I felt pain and I noticed that I'd fallen over. Without opening my eyes, I could make out my own face approach me. I realized that they had never been closed. The image, the screaming, the blood flashed before me. I couldn't fit it all in my head, what it signified. However, Khan soon helped me with that when the buzzing was finally quiet enough:

"So, now that we've finished him off, it's time."

I burst into tears. I don't know what set it off. The confirmation of the horror I'd been forced to watch? John's blood on Khan's face? The victorious Leader's smile? My best bet is still all three of them. I cried and cried and cried and couldn't stop, but the worst part was, I couldn't even look at John. I remembered quite clearly the way he'd been massacred and I knew exactly how this crime scene would look. I didn't want a faceless John to be the last John I'd ever see.

He died trying to save me, sacrificing himself for me. In short: he died taking the hard way out. I wanted to scream even louder but that was impossible.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I kept breathing between sobs, waiting for my death to finally stop the pain, but Khan had left the room.


	11. Epiphany

My whole face felt like I'd been sweating from the dried tears. Stomach-acid, that had crawled its way back up, set my throat on fire. The fact that John, my best and only friend, had been murdered, kept choking me in grief. "Whywhywhywhywhywhy," I whispered to myself again. No one answered me, of course.

I finally sat up while remembering what Khan had said: _Wipe every impure human off the face of this planet._  
The problem was I didn't disagree anymore. I looked down at myself and saw the wreck I had become, and I saw that every single one of the homo valde sapiens, who maybe really were just vulnerable idiots, calling themselves smart-smart humans, was destined for two things: death and heartbrokenness. However hard we try to eliminate one, we just end up with the other; John died, so as not to face heartbrokenness, and I was alive, having survived with a broken heart. All Khan was doing was taking away one of these inevitabilities. In the end he really was just helping us get a better future, because no future may just be better than the most miserable one.  
Also, I didn't care anymore. Remember how I said that I liked helping the human race if it didn't include getting emotionally involved? Well that's just what happened. It's impossible to help anyone or anything without getting emotionally involved, and right then, in that moment, I knew that getting invested was. So. Much. Worse. Than what I had always thought of it as being.  
I decided to go home and wait out the end of the world, while trying to find peace with myself. Thinking I could manage this was putting up false hopes, I knew that, but it was the end of the world, my best friend was dead, I was a selfish, lonely, sociopathic, cold bastard. It was nice to still have something I could hope for even after tomorrow wasn't promised anymore.  
Slowly I got up and, numbly, made my way out of the tank room. My steps were stiff and slow, as I walked through the darkened corridors of the HGMA. Passing the door of the archives, I remembered how just an hour or so before, John and I had been searching for Khan's weakness. How ignorant we had been back then. Khan had no weaknesses.  
I entered the reception and stared at the still knocked over tables. I let my eyes circle around the room one last time, taking in the flashing lights from police cars on the other side of the glass door. A couple seconds later, I was pushing passed the door and was once again outside. The sun was just setting, so everything looked orange to me. Had the circumstances not been different, perhaps I would've found it beautiful. Cops on the other side of the DO NOT CROSS line noticed me, and were coming closer to tell me that I was not supposed to be there, that this was a crime scene and that they could arrest me right then and there for trespassing and "I don't care if you're a consultant with Scotland Yard, the law's the law," but for just one second, I had the time to turn around to face the glass door one more time and look at my reflection.  
I saw him in it. I mean, I _really_ saw him. We weren't the same because we both looked identical, nor was it because we were both brilliant, or cold, or in good shape. When I looked at the thin, broken image of myself, I saw a tower of easy ways out, toppled over, like a stack of blocks a child had got carried away about, and put far too many on for it to sustain balance. And that's when I truly understood what he was: Khan was an easy way out; one out of so many of humanity's hopeless tries to escape the inevitable obliteration of us all.  
The thing about easy ways out is that they usually don't solve the problem they were created for. I saw in my reflection him, in which I saw a reflection of my own life; how I'd always been a gutless coward, taking shortcuts every time I could, in fear of losing the race. And while staring at how shattered my life had become because of him, I thought of how it had got that far, what had caused me to care so little for the future of my own race.

And I realized that it was in fact a hard way out.

John had chosen the Hard Way Out as his final path out of the universe; he'd died trying to save me. Maybe I could do that, too. Not for the human race, but for him. I owed it to John; doing something he would call "human." In fact, I owed it to the world to purposely take the hard way out just one time. Only now, at the end of the world, when my best friend was no longer by my side, it didn't seem so hard anymore. In that moment, I decided to do one last thing for humanity, but mostly for John; I decided to, like him, take the Hard Way Out and die trying.  
But how could I? How did I even stand a chance against 73 Superhumans? I hadn't even figured out what was on the bottom of that piece of paper... I looked at myself again and I thought of Khan, and of my cases, and of my lies, and of John, and of the tanks, and I looked at myself one more time but didn't just see, I observed and suddenly I knew; I knew what Khan's weakness was.

The police men grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around so as to face me and ask me why I had been in the currently closed Human Genetic Mutation Academy. I just gave them a blank stare, tore myself free from their arms, opened the glass door and started running down Hard Way Road as fast as I could.


	12. Hard

I didn't look behind me. Looking behind would weaken me, and anything that could weaken me, would eventually lead me back to the easy way out. So I kept looking ahead, because the Hard Way Out was the only chance for the human race left. I'd got it into this mess I would get it out as well. I think that I believed that stopping Khan was the only way I could possibly come to terms with John's death. The one thing I yearned for more than his voice telling me that it was okay (which it wasn't but it would still have comforted me) was for the weight of his death to stop crushing me with guilt.  
But it would soon, I knew that; because soon either I would die, or I would stop Khan and even if the latter seemed so painfully impossible, I still had to give it my best shot. I could now, because I knew what it said on the piece of paper Khan had ripped off.  
They weren't far behind me, still believing that I was the criminal here. As I passed doors of the HGMA I had never had the time to open and find out what was inside, I attempted to come up with a plan, but failed to miserably. Spontaneity had to do. After hiding behind a corner of a corridor, they finally lost my track. I exhaled deeply, slowly catching my breath again and tried to figure out what my location was. I was in the hospital wing, where the men had brought me not a day ago. Pressing my lips against each other, I silently made my way back to the main part of the institution, where I was more familiar anyway. Deductions about the last people to have touched the doors around me popped up and I wanted to fill someone's ears with them but I realized again that no one was with me, that even if I did save the world, I would do it alone, and I would keep on living alone and everything I did from then on would be alone. It felt like punch in the stomach, thinking of the weight John had left me; but that was the nature of hard ways out. They may hurt, but they're necessary.  
I took out the phaser I had stolen from the room; it was set to kill. I held onto it and aimed it at everything that look like it was moving, but never fired. While running as quietly as I could down the hallways of the broken academy I racked my brain. There was still something I was missing, something that Khan would use to destroy humanity. There was a bigger picture that he had been working on, bigger than those weapons he created and bigger, much bigger, than the 72 _homo superia_ he created. I searched room after room, finding nothing of the sort. What could he be planning?!  
My question was answered when I opened the twelfth door and before me, in a hall big enough to hold five airplanes, stood one gigantic space ship. I dropped my phaser in awe of the craft. I knew that evil was planned with it, but it was beautiful, you had to give it that. White, shiny, with a nice balance of round and straight. Under what seem to be the navigation room of the ship was a huge engraving reading: BOTANY BAY. I never found out why he named it that.  
There were a couple of windows on it, through which I caught glimpses of an all too familiar blue; the others were in there, still in their tanks. I guess Khan had never had enough time to finish them. Wearily, I approached it, looking for a way to enter. He had to be in there somewhere. For a second, I contemplated how ridiculous I would've found this whole situation a year ago. I was trying to break into a spaceship designed by my evil, better-looking twin for God's sakes!  
Hiding behind the legs of the ship, I got closer and closer to what I imagined had to be the entrance of the craft. I waited as close to it as I could be without revealing myself. For minutes and minutes nothing happened, but suddenly a square of the floor of the ship lowered its self, showing that they were in fact steps to the rest of the vessel. I watched as Khan came out from a corner of the room I hadn't seen and walked up the stairs. Deeming the time correct I silently followed him, the phaser constantly aiming at him, though I wasn't sure it would even work on him; why would he create a weapon that could kill _homo superia_? Luckily, he didn't notice me, or at least hid the fact that he had. I was aboard the space ship now, and that's what counted.  
He really was a genius. He built all of this in nine months at most. How could anyone do that? Well, I presume the Organization With Too Much Money provided all he needed. I suppose I wasn't his only ignorant servant. I snuck along the hallways, keeping my distance from Khan, but never losing sight of him. There was a sting in the back of my head, and first I thought it was some kind of dart, shot at me by the security system of the space ship, but soon I understood that it was just the loss of John. I let out a tiny wince, quickly realizing my mistake, but Khan didn't seem to notice. After some more following, we entered a large room, filled with switches, buttons, blinking lights, levers; this was the Bridge. There was a screen with eight rectangles on it, of which one was notably smaller. In the larger oned were ten dots each, and in the small one two; these were the tanks with the Superhuman, scattered all around the entire ship. Khan walked over to a single chair in the middle of all the buttons. I didn't know what to do anymore. I just made my way to the screen with the tanks on it. However, when I was about half way there, he turned around and stared at me.

For the first time I saw surprise on Khan Noonien Singh's face. However, it was soon replaced with sheer fury, as he ran towards me. My eyes widened and I sprinted towards the screen as fast as I could but he was far too fast for me to have a chance. He crashed into me, and with his strength threw me to the floor. It felt as if the pain was resonating through me. I lay on the clean metal, wanting to get up but unable to.  
"Oh poor, poor detective. You never give up, do you? Even when you're faced with a version of yourself you can never, ever be, your only friend is dead, and your entire race is doomed anyway. Even when you're _finished_!" he hissed, "Don't you just want to stop? Get a break from it all, one more time? Take one last breath?"  
"My last breath will be taken, fighting you." I finally pushed myself into a sitting position, staring at him.  
"So what are you planning to do? You can tell me now," I asked, looking for the right moment to pounce, as my rage at him slowly grew. Khan provokingly grinned. He'd worn that same grin right after killing John. I wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his face.  
"Aboard this ship, I have enough weapons to destroy every human on this planet, and once I've done that, we will fly and find a new home, destroying every imperfect race we find in our way." It seemed so surreal, his plan, but then I guess every plan by a _homo superia_ must. Anger boiled inside of me, but curiosity won. Astrophysics may not be my specialty but I do know the basics of outer-space;  
"How are you planning to get there? Even you can't fly that long."  
"I can cryogenically freeze myself and my brothers and sisters. The ship runs automatically, I just need to give it a destination, and we'll fly away, sleeping the whole time, waking up as if no time had passed." He was still smiling and my fury, before, a small flame within me, felt like the wind, weakening it, had finally stopped blowing; it was only really burning now. I threw myself at him with a roar and punched, kicked, hit him anywhere that would be the most painful but he simply stared at me blankly. At some point I stopped, exhausted, and wiped my nose with the back of my hand.  
"Why did you stop? Noticed how useless this all is?" he asked. I breathed out heavily through my nose one time.  
"I stopped because I can't defeat you that way. I know your weakness." His eyes glimmered with anger; anger twice as powerful as my own was.  
"What's this talk of weaknesses? I have no _weaknesses!_"he spat at me and grabbed me by the ears and pushed me down to the ground. I let go of the phaser and held onto his arms, trying to pull them away but he was far too strong for me. He started pulling at my head and it hurt. It hurt so, so, so, so much. My face felt like it was being ripped apart and I could've sworn I could hear my skull cracking. I tugged more at his arms but nothing happened. My eyelids were so stretched I couldn't see anything anymore. I fondly said farewell to life and waited for it to end.

But, however hard this was, it was still taking the Easy Way Out. The thought pained me even more than the eternal yanking at my head, because I was breaking a promise to myself. I closed my eyes as tightly as possible, as I reached down and felt my way around, searching the phaser that I'd dropped. Screaming at the pain, knowing I didn't have much longer until death, I found it and with my last strength aimed it sort of at him, and shot. Like I thought, it didn't kill him, but it caused him enough pain to flinch away, incidentally letting go. I could still feel his nails digging into my skin but I was relieved. I took a deep breath as Khan winced, his eyes closed, holding onto his left thigh, where the weapon had hit him. Though the agony of the ripping was still far from gone I took my chance and started running towards the screen again. I caught him off guard, and he didn't have enough time to stop me. When I finally reached the screen I pointed at the FREEZE ALL TANKS button but didn't press. He looked at me in shock, scared, and just before he wanted to attack me or even kill me, I pulled out the phaser and pointed it at him.

Unsure, I finally said something:  
"Surrender or I will kill every single one of your dearest crew."  
"It doesn't matter to me, I can make newer ones, better ones if I want," he tried to bluff, but I knew better.  
"We both know that isn't true."  
"_Liar!_" he roared, walking towards me.  
"One step closer and I freeze them." Khan stopped.  
"You care about them, don't you?" I asked, "More than you'd ever admit? They are your family, and what wouldn't you do for your family? Now surrender." He looked scared, properly terrified now. I felt more powerful than ever.  
"You aren't strong enough! You know that!"  
"Right now, while I'm the one with the weapon and the one with access to the button, I am."  
"How... How did you know? About the weakness? I even made sure you wouldn't find this," He took out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and threw it to the ground. It read:

_However hard we try to make him not care, Khan has a deep and passionate affection for all 72 of the homo superia he's created up to now._

I stared at him quietly for a while.  
"Oh, I see," he smiled again, "You know because of that inferior human friend of yours." I felt my face flush with anger.  
"Don't you dare talk about him like that! He is stronger than you, and stronger than I and stronger than anyone else will ever be!"  
"No, he is dead," he continued to try to provoke me and get me away from the screen but I didn't move.  
"If you don't surrender so will your crew be."  
"You don't have what it takes to commit genocide, detective." He took another step.  
"Try me?" Once again, Khan refrained from moving when I reinforced my threat. I think he was weighing out his options. I had him now, I had won.  
"With great pleasure." _Or not._ He smiled in delight, like he was playing a game.  
"I'll do it right now!" I yelled shooting once at his foot, which had just taken another step towards me. He grunted reaching for it, but the pain only lasted a moment.  
"SURRENDER!" I screamed with all of my rage at him for killing John and my fear of him for being able to kill someone in such a horrifying way. He was getting closer and closer and the weapon wasn't helping, so I closed my eyes and asked to be forgiven for the way out I was about to take. It wasn't the hard way, but it wasn't easy either.

"Commence tank freezing and life extermination in fifteen seconds." A mechanical voice rang out. The Leader's smile dropped, his eyes widened and for a moment, he forgot I was there. Only one thing counted for him then: save the _homo superia._ He ran towards the screen, past me, and started typing code after code into the screen, desperately trying to save his race. I realized that this was the time, the only time I could possibly get him. Just as he managed to stop the freezing from ever happening, I held the phaser up, aimed straight at his head and shot, the ray strong enough to knock him out. With little time left, I grabbed him and pulled him down the floor, to the closest tank and through him inside like he had with me a few days before. I stood in the large room of the space craft in silence, simply thinking about what had just happened with a blank look upon my face.


	13. Inauguration

But that wasn't even the end of it; I wanted to stay out of it, but apparently I was too involved to not be part of the judges deciding what Khan's penalty would be.  
A couple days after I'd defeated Khan, I found myself in a conference room on the far end of the HGMA, the only part, which remained undamaged after Khan's attack. I didn't want to decide what would happen to him, I didn't want to be there at all, so I just sat back and listened to the conversation of the two men and the woman, of whom I hadn't bothered to remember the name or rank:  
Man A: "I say we execute him, he's done too much damage for us to afford."  
Woman: "But what about the others? We know that they are willing to do everything he did, but they never did! We cannot prosecute them for actions they haven't done yet."  
Man B: "So what?! You want to wait out until they attempt to kill off all of humanity?!"  
Woman: "No, all I'm saying, is we can at the very least make their punishment milder."  
Man A: "No, each and every one of them would've done the same. We have to kill them all."  
Woman: "But Britain doesn't even have the death penalty anymore, how could we, in heaven's sake, get away with killing seventy-two by British law innocent people?"  
Man B: "But they aren't people. They're savage beasts! They should all be dead."  
Woman: "Monster!"  
Man B: "Defender of evil!"  
Man A: "Might I make a suggestion?"

Man B: "Well, go on then."  
Man A: "We could fulfill the _homo superia_'s goal."  
Woman: "What do you mean?"  
Man A: "We still have a space ship and seventy-three cryogenic tubes. We could freeze them and just launch the ship into space without any destination."  
Man B: "But wouldn't that be just like dying? They wouldn't ever wake up."  
Man A: "Well, no. There is a chance that something will wake them up. But this way we are not executing them."  
Woman: "...And we are letting them loose across the galaxy."  
Man B: "But couldn't we use the vessel for our own purposes?"  
Man A: "Yes, but our space-travel technology is not far enough to be able to go as far as the ship can bring us. We have blueprints of it; we can build a new one when the time is right, but I say, we launch this sucker into space."  
Man B: "All in favour say 'Aye.'"  
Man A, Man B & Woman: "Aye."

Me: "Oh... aye."

The day after was John's funeral, but I didn't go. I couldn't take having to be in a room filled with people when I said my final farewells to him. I had tried to force myself to go, but people who actually cared for me convinced me that it was okay; it was not my duty as a friend to go, if I didn't believe that was the right way of dealing with his death. I'd written a eulogy for him, but couldn't bring myself to show it to anyone, so I decided to hide it where no one would find it. At the time the funeral began I was strolling through 221B, looking for photographs of John, avoiding looking at them, and taking them down. I wanted to treasure the last time I'd seen him, taking the Hard Way Out, instead of being replaced by faces told to smile, printed on paper. As I took down picture after picture, I remembered; his pragmatism, his patience, his willingness to always bitter his life to sweeten another, the unique way he said my name when I was doing something reprehensible. He may be dead, and that may be the most difficult fact in all of history for me to grasp, but he is still my best friend and my guidance through the everlasting dark. Nothing is forever, but his finiteness brightened mine.  
However, with remembering came the hurt; I wanted the whole bloody thing to be behind me. But I knew it would never be over. That feeling of fear, anger, regret and loneliness at the back of my throat would follow me wherever I went.

The last time the HGMA called me, a couple months later, it was to ask me if I wanted to see Khan one more time.  
"Name me one reason why I would want to see his stupid grin again?!" I hissed into the speaker.  
"He's frozen now; we're shooting him into space tonight. We just thought you might want to say goodbye to him." It wasn't the woman who'd led me through the Human Genetics Mutation Academy; she, too, was dead on my account.  
"Sir?"  
"Yes, sorry..." I didn't think long, "When shall I come?"

But it wasn't because I want to see him one last time.  
I can already see through him clearly now, understand what really differentiates us. I imagine him, glistening in the bluish ice, a fallen tower of one gigantic Easy Way Out. That is our difference. He was born an Easy Way Out, he can never go back. I am a new man; I can start completely afresh, make the rest of my life the best it can still be. I feel like all the possibilities, once closed to me, are open again; as if that Hard Way Out grabbed me and spun me around so that I am no longer heading for the cul-de-sac of Easy Ways Out. I may have to face the world on my own now, but I am different, and maybe, I can find someone else. It was unimaginable before but now I am new, I am someone else, I am a Hard Way Outer. No one could ever replace John, but somebody else out there is maybe able to soften that feeling in my throat. I have hope again. And it will last a while, as it is commonly known that hope outlasts everything. Even _homo superia_.

**_A/N: The story ends here, but you are welcome to read the next chapter, the epilogue, if you want to (it isn't really needed for the plot I mostly did it so that some Star Trek regulars also appear in this fanfic) :)_ ****_But if you're leaving now please, please, please leave me a review? You know how much I love them :3 THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING OMG  
_**


	14. 2259,67

To whomever opened this cryo-box,

First big mistake. You should have never opened this box; you should have let Khan drift through space, God why did you even think he was there in the first place?  
Anyways, I'm not going to blame you for having done this. I was no better. In fact I am writing this now, though I have no reason to believe it'll be seen by someone who can read English, let alone even be found.  
It was a small tradition between John and I that after every case we solve together, he would write it all down from his point of view and post it to his blog. I always thought it was the most ridiculous idea ever but since he did not return from our last adventure together, I felt compelled to record it in the same fashion. However, I couldn't bring myself to post it. Hell, I was so scared someone might read it; I wrote this on a typewriter so it would be untraceable and will put it in the cryogenic tube with Khan when I go to see him one last time tonight.  
I thought of hiding it with John, but I don't want this to burn, I want someone to read it, understand. Just not someone now.  
Godspeed.  
Sherlock Holmes, 6th July 2014

* * *

James T Kirk read the introduction to the bundle of pages again, and after having read the entire story, he could let it sink in much better. He looked around the Bridge, his arms rested on the captain's chair with the papers in his lap.  
Spock still stood next to him, having waited for him to read the entire pile of paper, which had been hidden in Khan's cryogenic box years before.  
"So," the demi-Vulcan asked, "What do you think of it?"  
Jim sighed, "Well, it seems like the kinda warning Marcus should've paid attention to before awakening Khan..."  
"Oh..." The science officer said, seemingly disappointed.  
"What?" Jim asked.  
"Well, when I skimmed over it, it didn't seem like a warning to me. I don't know if it is just my not feeling perceiving emotions the wrong way, but to me it was something much more personal."  
"What do you mean?" asked the captain, curiously looking up to him.  
"To me it was more of a nice story, or a memoir."  
"_Nice?_ How was it nice?!" He got up from the Chair. "It was all about revenge and death."  
"Really? That's not how I saw it." Jim rolled his eyes at him.  
"Well how did you see it then?"  
"For me, it was a story about a man learning how to deal with life. And about his friendship with another man. It's all in the beautifully written eulogy, as I presume you know."  
The blonde man's eyes narrowed.  
"Eulogy? He wrote that he hid it, almost _two hundred and fifty years_ ago. How could you have found it?"  
Spock looked at him in that same bewildered way one Sherlock Holmes had used to when he noticed that his companion was not on the same track.  
"Didn't you know?"  
"What?"  
"The story, it thanks John for teaching Sherlock to keep going on, he is the very reason for the continued existence of the human race, there for you as well as I. Don't you see? The story _is_ the eulogy."

**_A/N: Thank you so much for reading this until the end and I hope you liked it :) HOW ABOUT A REVIEW? NO? Okay. Live long and prosper._**

**_LATERZ_**


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